


Devil's Boy

by whoreforwonwoo



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sad, mature - Freeform, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:33:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24354385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoreforwonwoo/pseuds/whoreforwonwoo
Summary: The devil looked heavenly in white.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Xu Ming Hao | The8/Yoon Jeonghan
Kudos: 16





	Devil's Boy

They adored him, screaming his name, holding his face, spending their lives fantasising about him. But as did I; silently.

He was an angel in every sense of the word; hair framing his face, a makeshift halo, his voice soft like silk, calming and tempting. His skin was like that of a doll’s, unblemished and perfect, teeth pearly and straight. His eyes were made out of the sweetest caramel, sprinkled with gold. My pretty angel.

That was his nickname amongst the fans; Yoon Jeonghan, Angel of Seventeen. He was also the devil in disguise, daring and malicious. A trickster with a brilliant mind; the greatest of sleuth’s would be jealous of. He was a silent attacker, taking you when you least expect it.

He took me himself. He was watching TV; I was watching the story of us play in front of my eyes. It was a simple story; soft sheets on cold mornings, coffee on empty stomachs, fingers entangled and messy hair. Legs and bodies in sync; hearts beating together. Longing no longer needed, for we had each other. I was knocked out of my reverie by his laughter, high and soft.

That was when he took me, and I willingly went. His laughter is soft and high-pitched, bouncing off the walls and into my heart. His shoulders shake gently against mine, knocking my head slightly. He is so, so beautiful, my angel he is.

They scream his name, they love him, maybe in the same way I do some of the fans. Devote themselves to him and what he does and his habits and little quirks. Gush about his smile and his laugh and his hair and his eyes and skin. For someone who talks about our fans moving on I seem to be very similar to them in this sense; unlike them I will never be able to move on.

I scream his name; across the table, across the practice room, across the living room, across the van; I am not loud enough, he looks but never really looks. How I yearn for him, maybe if I was like him, he would look at me the same way. My heart aches for him, the story of our life a mere ‘what if?’, which hurts more than something never even attempted.

He screams his name, when they think everyone is away or asleep. Tears stream down my face as his angelic voice whispers another name. Their secret smiles so blinding and obvious; to me at least. Their secret rendezvous known even by the managers. The looks they ‘sneak’ across the room not ignored by even the most oblivious of people. The fans seem to think they’re perfect for each other as well. They are the most popular ‘ship’ for a reason after all. Their skin ship and chemistry forming off of others suffering and sorrows.

Its inevitable, really. The sweet leader and even sweeter angel, together. They click; two pieces of a puzzle. The perfect friends to lovers’ trope. When they announce it to the group it’s all hollers and cheers and ‘I knew it’s and hugs all around, confirming everyone’s suspicions about the pair. but all I can see is him; my perfect devil. Tears burn the back of my eyes and my body goes hot, with shame, sadness and embarrassment. Somehow, I manage to drag myself over; feeling like my feelings are written all over my face, “Congratulations guys.” Is what I can get out. Seungcheol hugs me, and the devil just smiles at me. They fall, the pieces of my heart broken with the announcement, all because of one sad but sweet smile. 

My pillow is the perfect option to cry into, memories of our stolen moments and kisses burned into the fabric. Everyone celebrates downstairs, while I mourn the loss of my angel; whom I never had in the first place. His whispers of love and hope tainted my skin, his hands leaving invisible marks only I can see; ruined. He learned phrases of love and sin in Mandarin, ruining one of the parts of me permanently ingrained into me forever; my language and my home. He always called me Minghao, not the Korean name they gave me, making my blood buzz and heart race.

He is my devil disguised as a demon. And god does the devil look heavenly in white. 

(One Wen Junhui isn’t celebrating anymore, retiring to his own room. His tears burn his skin; whispers of choked confessions to the other Chinese boy falling from his lips. Oh, how he wishes he was worthy of one look that he gave Jeonghan. How he wishes the other boy gave him a chance. His angel.)

**Author's Note:**

> not at all how they are irl. just wanted to do smth more mature ig.


End file.
